The Trident of Poseidon
by Elysian-Box
Summary: With the Fountain destroyed, Jack's bid for eternal life is looking more and more hopeless. However, there's more on his mind for the moment. There's trouble in the seas, nevermind on them, and Jack's seen this pattern before. It's the Mermaids' work, at a glance at least.


Evening, dearest readers! And thank you for reading past the horrid summary... This is my first time posting in the PotC side of FF, after many months of procrastination (which I'm still doing even as I write this...). The basis for this story came from an RP idea that never took off, so I'm going to do what I can with it. If you enjoy the opening, please leave a quick comment to say. Even if you don't, do so anyway... it'll give me something to prove.

Enjoy!

-G

PS Apologies for any butchered Spanish!

* * *

"¡Eso cochino! ¡Eso cabrón braguetero! ¡Cuando veo eso... eso-!"

She stopped short, her violent pacing having unearthed the tattered figurine she'd spent the morning venting on. The island didn't offer much in the way of tools of destruction and rather than waste any more of her time on anything to do with that man, Angelica had kicked it out of sight. The one advantage to being stranded on an island with such an ungodly abundance of sand, she'd figured.

Her leg jerked to kick the doll, the tip of her boot digging a jagged path through the sand as she hesitated. She drew up short, covering it with only a fine sheet of sand and a slew of choice words before throwing herself down heavily beside it with her eyes trained on the horizon, the sea distinguishable from the sky only by the slight darkness of the deepening waters. Clenching her eyes shut and mirroring the action with her hands, she breathed in the sickeningly salty air.

"_This is a well travelled trade route."_

She snorted. _"'Well travelled' _my hat..." Behind her eyelids she imprinted the image of a ship, perhaps having sailed into view during her _reminiscing_. She savoured the image in the next moments, concentrating on it as if it could be willed into existence. Her eyes snapped open, but it hadn't translated to reality. A hoarse sigh made her chest heave, the sound reminding her that she was in desperate need of rescue, or of water at least. A humiliating thought, being rescued by some pompous, _male,_ trader, and all while presenting as a pirate. She sighed again, more irritation than hopelessness in the sound now.

Raising herself into a crouch, she cast a lazy eye over her surroundings once more. As sparse and disheartening as the spit of land was, it was a sufficient replacement for the glint of gold and the kohl-stained eyes that wormed their way into her mind if it wandered too long. A movement in the greenery based in the centre of the island made her start; it wasn't quite slight enough to be blamed on what little wind she seemed to be getting. Heaving herself to her feet, she made her way toward the source, moving swiftly at first but drawing short as she drew nearer. The land was uninhabited, who knew what creature could be lurking.

"_CRA-HA-hah! CRAAA!"_

Angelica quickly withdrew the hand she had been stretching towards the fan-like leaves covering the inner branches of the offending tree. Allowing herself a moment of calm, she twisted the flexible branches to reveal the tree's occupant.

"_CRA! Parley?"_

She stood a moment, stunned by the absurdity, before a smile broke out on her face. "A parrot! Not the company I'd prefer but all th-"

"_SQUAW! Abandon ship!" _The parrot extended its wings, batting her hands way in its preparation for flight.

"Ah! Wait! Don't-" She frowned, "What am I-?" Shaking her head, she reached again to pull back the branches, though she was at a loss at what she planned to do to stop the bird. She was saved the trouble, the bird had gone.

She released her grip and stood back a step, questioning what had just happened, or if it had happened at all for that matter. Looking up to the sun through the leaves of an overhanging palm, she closed her eyes and shook her head once more to clear her thoughts. Upon opening them she swathe return of the parrot, settling on a perch slightly above her, just out of reach. Thankful she hadn't imagined it after all, she extended an arm, clucking her tongue and whistling raggedly through her parched lips.

The parrot cocked its head, seeming to look straight at her. _"CRAW! Mind the boat!" _And with that, it extended its wings once again, taking flight over the greenery to the opposite shore and no doubt beyond.

"What use is a parrot but for food anyway!" She yelled after the creature, feeling her voice crack with the strain. Her quiet swears prevailed instead, accompanied by a weary kick at a nearby plant as she walked out to resume her watch on the shoreline. "Wouldn't be any use in conversation either... Talking in riddles like-"

"_You've stolen me. And I've come to take meself back."_

Her lip curled in disgust; she snorted. "Like a pathetic little pirate. Or simply a man for that matter."

She swayed a little on the spot before purposefully striding over to where she'd discarded the figurine earlier. Gripping it tightly she strode in the opposite direction where an odd looking pile of small, sea-worn pebbles lay. She swept them aside with her boot, threw the figurine at her feet, and kneeled down to dig in the sand with her hands.

The metal of the gun was cool against her skin, having been buried from sight and sunlight since her first hours of abandonment. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. With her free hand she blindly reached for the doll, the tiny beads tapping against each other. She held each item in front of her; a wry smile forming at the thought of Jack unknowingly shot by his parting _gift_.

If that would work.

The smile fell away. What if it didn't work? She would have to wait for death however long it may take, not even knowing for sure whether or not her and her father's deaths were rightly avenged. Her father. She lowered her eyes. He would feel it best to take the chance and die honourably, rather than choose the coward's path. But why should she care for his ideals? He only worked for his own gain after all. As a pirate should, but she couldn't bury the feeling of betrayal, or disappointment, she felt when she recalled the last moment she shared with him.

She looked back at her hands, considerably less energized by her plan. She let her hand drop to her sides, the gun and figurine tumbling on to the sand, the weight of the gun pulling sand over its edges. Turning her eyes skywards, she called out, "I didn't mean what I said about the food!" But no sound, no silly little snippets of conversations from long ago.

"Mind the ship... who doesn't notice a ship?" She sat back on her heels, relaxing her muscles and gazing back out at the horizon line. Once again, she closed her eyes tight, opening them after a few minutes had passed each time. She wasn't sure if she still had any hope or if she was simply finding ways to pass the time.

Around the fifth cycle, her eyes caught a smudge in the distance. Her heart quickened but she repeated the exercise anyway, blaming the hours spent in sunlight on her delusion. Evidently, the hope was still there. Her count got faster, anxious to confirm the delusion as reality. Stumbling over her thoughts, she reached the end of her count and opened her eyes wide lest she miss any sign of rescue.

"_Mind the boat!"_

A laugh broke forth from her lips. She scrambled to her feet and commenced waving her arms in the air. "Here! Here! Aquí! Aquí!" Her throated ached in protest but she paid no attention. "Over here!" Grabbing the gun, she aimed to the sky. Her finger twitched on the trigger. "_This_ had better work," she muttered, as she braced herself.

It occurred to her as she pushed down the metal that Sparrow mightn't have been the _gentleman_ he claimed. If he had neglected to leave the single shot Angelica would find herself missing her one chance at escape, or left to die slowly had hope not appeared at all.

The sound of gunshot was more welcome than ever, in fact she almost felt guilty for thinking ill.

Any grievances would have to wait however; she saw the ship slow as it turned against the wind – stronger than it had been previously. She ran into the waves, the promise of rescue providing the energy needed to swim out deeper than she'd dared the past couple of days.

Manoeuvring the waters towards the ship was slightly harder than one would have thought from the usual calm in these waters. It did nothing to faze Angelica however; she was unfamiliar with the water but the opportunity back onboard a vessel was motivation enough.

She scrabbled against the wood of the ship for the ladder thrown over the railing, kicking her legs furiously beneath her to keep buoyancy as her clothing became weighed down with water. Once she had a firm grip of the frayed ropes she heaved herself up, straining against her muscles' exhausted pleas for nutrition and rest. As she neared the railing she felt sure someone would reach an arm to help her, feeling a sting of bitterness when none appeared.

Emptying her boots on the deck before proceeding, she felt the push of a crew member wasting no time in bustling past to retrieve the ladder. She furrowed her brow, stamping her boot on the deck as she replaced it. Gaining no attention still, she gave a low growl before gathering her thoughts. The crew it seemed had gotten over the novelty, if they had acknowledged it at all, and had resumed their business.

"Who is your captain?" She asked to the men as a whole, trying to catch the eye of one and force an answer. "¿Quién es vuestro capitán?" She knew no other language, and despite their mottled tans, these men had the pale pallor she associated with Englishmen. Another growl passed her lips, "I asked you, WHO-"

"They hear ye, love. They just haven't licence to answer."

Spinning to the source of the voice, and noting the clips of a disappearing accent, her eyes searched the figure. She crossed her arms over her chest, as an instinctive form of protection and as a comfort to herself.

"Captain?" she offered, though the answer was quite obvious. There were certain patterns that could be identified, and though she'd sailed under few different captains than her father, the man that stood before her emanated a certain authority.

Physically, he dominated the majority of the crew she had seen thus far; he had a broad build with strong, sharp facial features that emphasised the fact his eyes were proportionally small to the rest of him. Light blue, surprisingly, pale even. Her examination was interrupted as he stepped towards her, his thudding footsteps putting her petulant stamps from before to shame. "Aye, that would be me. Captain Blake." A jagged grin spread across his face, "And you, dearie?"

Angelica held her chin high, eyes flitting and making a quick inventory of what items lay nearby. "Captain, my name is Angelica _Malon_. " Blake, the name wasn't familiar to her. Her attention snapped back to the captain. With what she knew, the clipped words, his pale eyes and fair hair, she would bet the _dreadfully_ English name wasn't his own. It seemed best she remain anonymous until she could establish his position as friend or foe.

"Well, Miss Malon." He paused to take a step closer, exaggerating the difference in their builds. "A man might wonder what a woman was doing alone on a lonely spit of land in the middle of the ocean with naught but a pistol for company." His grin grew wider, "But a pirate would guess that the pistol had but one shot, no?"

She kept her eyes trained on him, maintaining the same position as before. But for her chest rising and falling with her breath, it seemed she had frozen completely. Blake chuckled, "You've got guts. Mutiny, perhaps? Or is this for show? Either way, it took courage to gamble that last shot, I can admit. Luckily, this Captain has a... a fair heart, would you say?" His tone lowered with these last words, but his grin remained wide. Yet still he gained no response, verbal or physical, from Angelica. "What is it you be wanting now then, dearie?"

Moments of silence passed as Angelica debated with herself on her next words. Revenge was the obvious answer, but considering she was unarmed and without a ship of her own, it wasn't the best she could offer.

"Where is she headed?" she asked, turning her head to squint into the distance and hoping to leave the matter at that.

She didn't see the annoyance flash across the captain's features; he gritted his teeth but, after a moment of silent fuming, had replaced it with his former smirk, trying to appear friendly, calm.

"We don't make port too often; when you've got all the sea you want why waste time on the land?" He laughed gently. "But I suppose we could manage a stop at, say, Tortuga? Once we've seen to our own priorities, that is."

Angelica tore her eyes from the sea, turning to scrutinize the large man, sizing up his offer and sincerity. As if it would have made a difference, what other options did she have?

"All right... Captain... You'll have me aboard then." She raised her chin to look at him, her gaze determined as she delivered the statement.

"Heh, welcome aboard the _Elvidner,_ Miss Malon."


End file.
